Hype is real. Super heroes are not.
On Sunday, your hero, Peyton Manning, triumphantly conquered the Gun-Slingingest Gun-Slinger of ’em all, Brett Favre. Manning became the NFL’s all-time leader in passing yards. After breaking the record, Manning threw 4 picks and was benched. You will never see the Peyton Manning you knew all these years again. The statuesque quarterback with the rocket arm and affinity for chicken Parmesan sandwiches is gone forever. Your hero has turned into a game manager who can’t throw more than 20 yards down a football field. The only way you will be able to relive this fabled career that had to be seen to be believed, is to go to one of Peyton’s many Papa John’s franchises and hope you can catch him holding court, telling tales of how he used to fire 75 yarders to Marvin, Reggie, and Dallas.
On Saturday, my hero, Ronda Rousey, was physically dissected and outclassed by a more skilled and prepared fighter. Watching this woman take the beating she took felt eerily similar to when I learned that Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and Steven Seagal were all just myths told to keep children in line. Days later, I still cannot believe it. The most dominant force I have ever seen in sport, looking just like one of the spineless cockroaches she has laid to waste so many times before inside the Octagon; battered, bruised, and humbled.
Where do we go from here? What are we supposed to do when our idols are exposed and we learn everything that we ever knew was a big fat fib? Who will save us from this pain? There are no heroes, but is there a God? The answer is yes. Yes there is.